Chapter Text
Regulus hesitates on the steps to the imposing ancient building.
It feels like only yesterday that his brother had driven them here. Five hours in a rented van. Only the barest essentials in his bag. Two weeks of clothes, a few books and his swimming equipment.
He takes a deep breath, tasting the salty sea air in his lungs before he enters.
In the large, ostentatiously decorated entrance hall, a plaque and a bust are commemorating the donor who built this swimming hall. Regulus doesn't have a lot of time to look around though.
An elderly lady, dressed in a black training suit greets him with a strict voice: “Mr Black, we are so glad to have you here”
Her eyes scan him through her thick, round glasses.
“Minerva McGonagall, am I right?” Regulus tries his best to hide his nervousness. Unsuccessfully he thinks.
“Yes! Did you have a pleasant move?” The question is routine, obvious, but it still takes him out of the moment. Did he have a pleasant move? Pictures from back at their parents house flash through his mind. Them screaming at him, Sirius kicking the car in frustration, the silent drive here from London. The unboxing he could not finish and his first night in a cold strange room. It had taken them those past two weeks to really resurface, from that experience. The shift was so sudden, so brutal, sometimes he feels like time just stopped moving at that exact moment, when the car door slammed behind him. It had been a lot of things, but no, pleasant wasn't one of them.
Since then, so much has changed and everything around him still feels like a wobbly dream.
Then Regulus remembers this morning. Waking up on his own terms. Coming down into
the kitchen to his brother burning some eggs, grinning at him and shoving him into
his chair. Sirius was wearing a purple, oversized hoodie.
“Moving was stressful. But now I am here.” he answers slowly, carefully he adds: “Mam.”
McGonagall gives him a short nod, “Now, I won't hold you up with many niceties.
Let's talk business” and Regulus is glad to hear that.
She gives him a tour of the whole bath. The building is achingly old. Regulus
recognizes some of the architecture to be from the Art Nouveau. High ceilings and
round, big windows. McGonagall proves his hypothesis by saying, “A big Part of this
The building has been conserved since 1921. It really is the most extraordinary thing we have in Polm” she stops for a moment. A strange look darts across her face, almost too fast to notice. But Regulus always notices.
“There are a lot of rumors about this place and how it was built. But most of them are just that, rumors. Started to bring some tourists to this town. Some of the People here would tell any story to get tourism rolling again.”
Regulus doesn't miss how her eyes rush up to the glass room that overlooks the whole bathing area. He can see shapes moving inside, but can not make out any faces.
McGonagall exudes pride at showing him the ancient pools. Way too large for such a small community. That mismatch is obvious in the decay of the less used parts of the building. Cracked tiles, flickering electricity and doors nailed shut are not out of the ordinary. Even in the main, Olympic size pool, a patch was repaired with off color grey tiles.
Despite all that, he is pleased with his new training grounds. By McGonagall's calm but focused demeanor. By the quiet, private changing room he was assigned. Most importantly by the fact that his parents will not breathe down his neck every day here.
“It's probably not what you are used to. We don't have a lot of room here and it gets crowded on Fridays and at the weekend. Though I think you will manage just fine. I have seen you swim and it is my professional opinion that your potential does not depend on the right equipment.”
The first day of training with McGonagall feels relaxed. The training plan is also much different from what he knows from home. McGonagall has divided his days into push days and maintain days. Push days are for giving it his all, for beating his bests and training under tournament conditions. Maintain days are for staying fit, maintaining gains and building endurance. A welcome change from his parents' method of: "If you don't reach your best, you eat alone in your room."
Despite her best efforts in hiding it, it is obvious to Regulus that McGonagall is gleefully happy to be training someone competing in the nationals and not just the local children. She seems very determined to get him onto that podium. Maybe even more than his old trainer.
On the walk home, Regulus lets his thoughts drift in and out, while his eyes wander over the pretty coastline houses. This part of the city always looks like it has fallen straight out of a postcard.
The day had been pleasant. Now that he lets himself review, he realizes that it has been the first pleasant day in a long while.
His stressful graduation had been at the end of July and after that he didn't get a second to breathe. His mother made sure to fill out all the spare spaces that school left in his schedule, with training sessions. They had planned for him to join the national league as a junior. That would mean signing a contract with the London Association, binding him for years. Luckily, his birthday rolled around in September, before any papers could be signed.
Regulus had discovered his adoration for swimming in preschool. After that, it didn't take long for his teachers to recognize some talent behind his eager devotion to the lessons. Everything changed the second his parents were informed of this development. Regulus remembers the day the teachers had invited them to one of his lessons, vividly. His parents sat down on the long bench next to the pool, looking very much out of place. Fully dressed and stiff.
Regulus can remember his excitement. He wanted to show them his talent so badly. To please them, to impress them. Back then.
He succeeded and, unfortunately, everything shifted after that. His mother became obsessed with the idea of him becoming a professional. The Black family had produced many big names in several sports in the past centuries. His aunt had been a ballet dancer and they had a whole bunch of relatives collecting trophies and glory in the equestrian circles. His great grandfather had been a boxer, but that was something their parents rarely mentioned. To them, boxing didn't fall under the right kind of sport, the right kind of people, a right way to do something. But Regulus becoming a prodigy in swimming was definitely the right way of honoring the family name.
They booked him private swimming lessons after his first few wins in minor competitions. And with that they started to plan out every day of his life for the next nine years. Until he turned eighteen two weeks ago.
Sirius made the plan to leave. He asked Regulus to come. But their parents wouldn't let it happen. Not without getting their way. An easy deal. He wins the nationals, he is free. He loses, he goes back to them. Back into the gigantic, empty house. Back to his old trainer. Back to getting punished for every mistake. At least for now he can live with the compromise. Just a few more months.